


We're (not) going to Jotunheim

by Ryxl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 13:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryxl/pseuds/Ryxl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill for Trovia! The actual one this time. One-shot. <br/>"Did anybody ever write the fic where Loki’s plan to disrupt Thor’s coronation worked out exactly like planned? They never made it to Jotunheim, Thor looked really stupid, Loki laughed at him quietly where nobody could see, the coronation was postponed… Not sure what would happen next, but in the hands of a good writer, there sure are possibilities."</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're (not) going to Jotunheim

“My friends…” Thor smiled, confident and arrogant. “We’re going to Jotunheim.”

As they strode to the stables, alternately elated and resigned, Loki cursed himself for not thinking. He _knew_ that telling Thor “there’s nothing you can do” was the surest way of making the golden-haired prince try it anyway, heedless of any consequences. He should have phrased it a different way instead of passively egging his thick-headed brother into breaking the most serious of laws and dragging them to the frozen hellhole those disgusting monsters called home, where they would all surely die horribly. It was too late now; once Thor had the bit of an idea between his teeth, he was as impossible to sway from his path as a warhorse. Even the mighty Sleipnir, Odin’s own steed, would-

Sleipnir. Odin.

Loki fell back a few paces while the others collected their arms and moved on, swallowing a smile. It was the work of but a moment to charge one of the guards with bearing the news to Odin that both his sons were on their way to the forbidden realm of Jotunheim, and then with a confident smile of his own he strode forward to mount his favorite gelding. The guard would run; his reputation combined with the daggers he’d gestured with would ensure that, and there wasn’t a horse in the nine realms who could outrun Sleipnir. At worst, their father would thunder up while they were trying to talk their way past Heimdall.

They were _not_ going to Jotunheim.

The ride along the Rainbow Bridge seemed to take forever, Loki’s nerves taut as he strained to hear the unique rhythm of his son’s gallop approach from behind them, but it never came and all too soon Thor was reining in his mount some thirty yards back from where Heimdall stood, implacable and motionless. It was with some trepidation that their small group crossed that distance, second and third thoughts being had by all save Thor. Loki’s pale eyes searched the shadows within the observatory, but there was no one there.

“Leave this to me,” he said with false confidence as Thor drew near to the Gatekeeper, nearly jogging a few steps to pass his older brother. “Good Heimdall,” he began, but was interrupted.

“You’re not dressed warmly enough,” the man in golden armor intoned, expression never changing.

Caught off-guard, Loki blurted out, “I’m sorry?”

“Do you think that you can deceive me?” It was more a challenge than a question, and Loki swallowed back the reflexive laugh that so often distracted his audience while he thought up a lie.

“You must be mistaken-”

“Enough!” Thor’s voice, just short of a bellow, cut through the lie before it could even begin. Loki stood as motionless as the Gatekeeper and watched the almost-king stride up to stand between them. “Heimdall, may we pass?”

Uncharacteristically silent, eyes downcast, Loki waited to see how his older brother would botch up his own fool’s errand.

“Never,” said Heimdall steadily, “has an enemy slipped my watch until this day.” The restrained menace in his voice chilled the trickster’s blood. “I wish to know how that happened, but my duty is clear. You may not pass.”

From within the observatory, footsteps. Thor stiffened, head up like a deer scenting a wolf.

Odin stepped out from behind the curved wall.

“Father!”

Behind Loki, Sif and the Warriors Three straightened to sudden, terrified attention. Heimdall’s expression did not change, although his eyes lingered on the younger prince’s grey ones for just long enough to make it clear he had seen everything.

“Silence!” It was an unnecessary command; even Thor was afraid to breathe in the face of the Allfather’s fury. “Do you have any idea, foolish boy, what your actions would have done? You have disobeyed the _express command_ of your king, and nearly plunged these peaceful realms into war! I was a fool to think you were ready.” Odin’s storm-blue eye drifted just for a moment to Loki. “Luckily, it seems at least _one_ of my sons has more sense than his armor rack.”

Thor glared tearfully at his brother, who struggled to keep his expression blank in the face of giddy, inappropriate laughter fueled by relief and faint praise. Odin strode past them both, uncaring, to rake the other four with his searing disapproval.

“I understand that my son is stubborn and listens only reluctantly to reason, but until this day I thought he had at least surrounded himself with companions who would hold him _back_ from certain death, not plunge headlong into it with him! Any fool can stand with his friends and call it courage, but to know that what you do is wrong and seek only to hide it is cowardice. Escort Thor to his chambers. Keep him there until I say he may leave.” What had begun as an enraged shout ended in a tone of cold disappointment that cut to the bone and left shame in its wake.

Silently, they bowed. Angry and hurt, Thor allowed himself to be marched back to the horses. Loki watched them ride off, wishing he dared turn himself invisible, certain that he was about to face an even worse fate now that there was no audience for it. His gelding stamped, confused, and Sleipnir glided out of the observatory to keep him company.

“Loki,” Odin said in a deceptively mild voice.

He swallowed. “Yes, Father?”

“What you did was brave, and wise, and I beg your forgiveness.”

That was entirely unexpected. “My – for what?”

“For favoring your brother over you. For nearly putting a vain, greedy, cruel boy on the throne to further my own ambitions. For not seeing that, truces and plans aside, it should have been you taking those oaths today.”

Loki’s mouth dropped open, then slowly closed. All his clever words had fled, leaving him tongue-tied.

“Although Thor has borne Mjolnir for many years, I have not given you anything of equal worth to show my favor. That was my own cowardice, and it ends today.” Sleipnir sidled up at a subtle gesture, and Odin mounted the eight-legged stallion smoothly. “Meet me in the weapons vault. It is long past time you claimed your birthright.”

Astonished, Loki turned to Heimdall as the double rhythm of Sleipnir’s gallop faded into the distance.

“It is not for me to say,” the Gatekeeper said calmly. Then, after a moment, “How _did_ you bring the Jotuns into Asgard?”

“It’s not for me to say,” he retorted before bowing and making his hasty retreat.

 

* * *

 

 

The weapons vault was silent, flames flickering in their braziers, reflecting the gentle ripples of the water that thawed to either side. The bodies, even the pieces of bodies, had been removed and the only sign of anything out of the ordinary was Odin, standing thoughtfully before the Casket on its plinth at the far end. Loki approached slowly, cautiously, wondering what secret birthright lay in store for him.

“The Casket of Ancient Winters,” Odin said softly. “It is the source of the Jotuns’ power. But it was not the most precious treasure I brought back with me from Jotunheim.”

Loki stepped up to his father’s side, staring down at the cold light that played within the Casket, knowing that this was not a time to speak.

“In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the temple and I found a baby. Small, for a giant’s offspring. At the time, I thought it abandoned and suffering, left to die. Later, I realized it must have been left there for safekeeping: Laufey’s son. I brought him home, bound him to me with ancient magic, that my blood would run in his veins and give him Asgardian form. I thought that if I raised him as a prince of Asgard, I could one day bring about an alliance with Jotunheim, or even a permanent peace. Laufey knows, of course. That is the basis of my truce with him.”

“That’s why Jotunheim is forbidden,” Loki breathed.

“Your brother,” Odin began slowly. When he met Loki’s eyes, it was with deep sadness and apology. “Forgive me, Loki. I should have told you long before now, but I wanted to protect you, both of you, from the truth. Your brother nearly plunged Asgard into war with Jotunheim because I failed to teach him patience and cunning. His blood runs too hot in his veins. You are my son, you know that.”

Confused, Loki said, “Of course.” He could forgive their father keeping the secret of Thor’s birth all these years, and he was very glad indeed that he had acted to prevent the stubborn lunk from killing any of his own people even as he swallowed metallic guilt over having opened a passage to lead three of them to their deaths. They were monsters, but for his brother’s sake he would no longer think of them like that.

Odin gestured to the Casket. “This is your birthright, Loki. Take it, and learn its powers.”

“My-” Loki’s thoughts ground to a halt. “ _My_ birthright? I’m – I thought Thor-”

“Sadly, the foolish stubborn pride is something he gets from me.” The Allfather smiled forlornly. “I wish I could say the same for your cunning and intelligence, but Laufey is the one who can boast that he sired such a clever son.”

Numb with disbelief, Loki reached out and grasped the Casket’s handles. Power crawled across his skin, tingling and warm – but no, that was just the cool air suddenly seeming hot as his skin turned blue. Panicked, he looked into his father’s face, and the reassurance and pride he found there steadied him. The heat swept up to his hairline, and he blinked as a shimmering blue-white overlay suddenly appeared to paint his vision in transparent shades of hot and cold. “That’s why you favored Thor all these years,” he heard himself say.

“Because only one of you could ascend to the throne of Asgard, and only one of you could bring about peace with Jotunheim. But I am beginning to think I was wrong.”

The Casket’s power itched in the back of his mind, begging to be used. Resolutely, Loki folded it into a pocket of space and watched the blue fade from his skin.

“I will enter the Odinsleep soon. Will you take up my spear and defend the peace until I awaken?”

Loki realized his hands were shaking, and his cheeks wet. “I…I…”

“You are my son,” Odin repeated firmly.

“I need time,” he said unsteadily.

“I understand. Speak with your mother, I beg you.” He smiled, a small, wry expression. “Perhaps if she is distracted enough, I can slip into the Odinsleep before she says ‘I told you so’ to me.”

That startled a shaky laugh out of Loki. “What about Thor?”

Odin laid his hands on his son’s shoulders, heavy and reassuring. “This is your secret now, Loki. No one needs to know unless you choose to tell them. Your mother and I have kept it for a thousand years; we will continue to do so for as long as you wish it.”

“I meant,” he said dryly, “what will happen to him while you are in the Odinsleep?”

“He will stay in his room without any dessert,” the Allfather continued in the same solemn tone. “When I awaken, I will summon him and he will begin his lessons anew. Hopefully, it won’t take more than a few decades before he learns some sense. Now that you know the plan…” Odin’s lips twitched. “I hope you will come to me with any reservations about his readiness to be your brother-king, rather than taking it upon yourself to arrange object demonstrations.”

Loki swallowed. “I should have guessed you’d know. You’re…not angry?”

“How can I be angry with you, when you have so much more right to be angry with me?”

“I swear to you, Father, I will defend the peace while you rest. I ask only that, when you awaken, I be allowed to speak with Laufey.”

“I will take you there myself. I am proud of you, Loki.”

Once again, the younger prince found his cheeks wet. “Thank you, Father.”

 

* * *

 

 

One by one, Loki summoned Sif and the Warriors Three to secret meetings during the nerve-wracking week it took Odin to regain his strength. Frigga stayed at her husband’s side, even in sleep, and although no emergencies marred the serenity of those days, they tore at Loki’s sanity. Every eye upon him seemed to stare through his skin to the Jotun heart that beat nervously in his chest. Confessing his true parentage to Thor’s companions eased the tensions somewhat, each one initially apprehensive at the reason they’d been called away from their posts keeping a disgruntled Thor in his chambers. As they watched his skin turn blue and flinched from his red eyes, he apologized for his role in their near-treasonous journey. They swore to keep his secret, any outrage they may have felt on Thor’s behalf cooled by Loki’s blatant unhappiness.

Sif, surprisingly, was the most understanding. “I know you’ve always been jealous of Thor,” she said bluntly, her hand blazing against his blue wrist, “but I also know what it is to struggle for your identity in the face of a society that has its own ideas about it. You’re different, Loki. That doesn’t make you worse. You are a son of Odin and a prince of two realms, and there is nothing shameful about embracing both sides of yourself.”

“Do you think Thor will feel the same way?” he asked quietly.

“He supported me. If he can’t support his own brother, then together we will teach him the error of his ways.”

Although he had adventured with Thor and his companions many times, it was the closest Loki had ever felt to any of them.

Finally, on the seventh day, Odin awoke and Loki surrendered Gungir with clear relief. “You did well,” he assured his son. “Go now, and tell your brother his punishment is at an end.”

Hogun and Volstagg were on duty when Loki strode up to the door.

“I bring word from the Allfather,” the prince said with a grin. “Thor may once again leave his chambers.”

“Bless you,” enthused Volstagg. “I’m absolutely famished, and bored nearly to tears. Your brother’s sulking. Again.”

The slim, solemn warrior merely opened the door.

Although Thor had been slumped against a wall, unwashed and unshaven, he lurched to his feet and launched himself at his smiling brother in a distinctly unfriendly fashion.

“Loki!” he roared. “How dare you smirk at me after you betrayed me like that?”

The younger prince watched his brother stumble through an illusion and shook his head. “Temper, temper.”

“Don’t you scold me! You told Father where we were going!” Hands fisted, Thor glared at him. He knew another illusion awaited should he attempt another assault.

“I did. I prevented you from starting a war with Jotunheim.”

“I wouldn’t have! I just wanted answers!”

“You wanted a fight, Thor.” Loki sat at the small table that normally boasted two chairs; the other had been broken against the far wall. “But if you want your answers so badly, I’ll give them to you.”

Warily, Thor said, “What do you mean?”

“I used magic to open a passage from Jotunheim directly into the weapons vault, and more magic to cloak it.”

“You! How could you, brother? You ruined my day of triumph and then offered me words of comfort.”

Loki scowled at Thor’s look of anguish. “You weren’t ready. Neither of us is ready.”

“Neither? Loki, what are you saying?”

“Don’t play dumb, Thor. You know as well as I do that Father has been grooming each of us to be a king. We’ve been competing for the throne our whole lives, only I never really wanted it and you never really thought you wouldn’t get it. Well, you’ll get it, but not until I say you’re ready.”

The hurt confusion transmuted back into black anger. “And why do _you_ get to decide?”

“Because Father trusts my judgment,” Loki said calmly, “and because you once swore that when you were king, you’d hunt down and slay all the Jotuns.” He swallowed. “Given that I am, in fact, one of them, I would prefer not having a king who is so eager to spill my blood.”

The anger drained out of Thor, leaving him pale. “Loki…”

“I am a Jotun, Thor. Laufey’s son, stolen from the temple as a baby and raised by Father as his own. That is the basis of the truce with Laufey. That is why Jotunheim is forbidden.”

“No, no…” The older prince hauled Loki to his feet and embraced him desperately. “No. You are my brother. I will not believe that you are…are…”

The Casket obeyed its master’s call; Loki’s skin turned blue and chill. Startled, Thor leaned back and then recoiled from the blood-red eyes staring sadly from his brother’s face.

“I am a Jotun, Thor. The son of Laufey. I am also your brother, and the son of Odin. Believe me, it was not easy for me to accept, but it’s the truth. Someday, I may be the king of Jotunheim, and I’ve never been there. I’ve never even seen a live Jotun. I have a lot to do before I’m ready.”

“This is a trick,” Thor babbled. “A prank. It’s not very funny, brother.”

“No,” Loki agreed sadly. “It’s not. Wash yourself. Get cleaned up, put on fresh clothes, and talk to Father. Or Mother, for that matter, although you may find her telling Father that she told him so.” The ghost of a smile flitted across his lips. “I told Sif and the Warriors Three, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else.”

Thor grabbed the chair he’d pulled his brother out of and sat heavily in it, head cradled between his hands. “I was a fool,” he moaned. “Forgive me.”

Smiling gently, Loki pulled him to his feet and embraced him. “If I can forgive Father for keeping it from me,” he said softly, “I can forgive you.”

“Thank you,” Thor breathed.

As they separated, Loki said, “Now give us a kiss.”

“Stop it,” the older prince protested reflexively, smiling almost against his will at the shared joke.

Hearts light, the brothers laughed.


End file.
